The Veiling

The Veiling: Wrestling With What Comes After

I have always been religious — not out of habit, not out of tradition, but for my own personal reasons. Faith, for me, has never been abstract. It has been something lived.

When you truly see evil — not inconvenience, not disagreement, but real evil — something in you recognizes that there must also be its opposite. Darkness only makes sense if light exists. Corruption only makes sense if something pure stands against it. For me, witnessing the reality of evil strengthened my belief that God is real.

But belief raises questions.

I have often tried to imagine how humanity would pass from this present system — flawed, broken, violent, prideful — into the perfect government of God’s Kingdom. Scripture speaks of that transition, but it does not soften it.

In Revelation 6:12–17 (KJV), the opening of the sixth seal is described:

A great earthquake.
The sun turned black as sackcloth.
The moon became as blood.
The stars of heaven fell.
The sky departed as a scroll.
Every mountain and island moved out of place.

It is not poetic comfort. It is upheaval. It is divine judgment.

And if I’m honest, that passage always unsettled me.

It is terrifying to picture the foundations of the world shaking — seas roaring, heavens darkened, systems collapsing. Yet Scripture does not present it as chaos without purpose. It is judgment. It is correction. It is the tearing down of what cannot remain.

Those with faith would not be spared the sight of it. They would have to endure it. They would have to weather the judgments poured out upon the “seas” of the world — the masses, the nations, the systems that defied their Creator.

That tension stayed with me.

How does a loving God allow such upheaval?
How does humanity cross from disorder into divine order?
What does that transition look like for ordinary people — fathers, mothers, children?

The Veiling was born from that wrestling.

In my own fictitious mind, I tried to rationalize and envision what that crossing might feel like. Not just from a prophetic distance, but from ground level. What would it be like to stand in a world where the veil between what is seen and unseen begins to thin? Where judgment is not metaphor, but event?

The Veiling is not an attempt to rewrite Scripture. It is an exploration — a story that imagines the emotional, spiritual, and human weight of that moment. It asks what happens when the unseen presses closer. When evil is exposed. When faith is no longer theoretical.

We live in a world that often treats the spiritual as symbolic or distant. But what if it isn’t? What if the veil is thinner than we think?

For me, writing The Veiling was not about fear. It was about understanding. It was about asking how flawed people — people like us — could stand in the middle of divine upheaval and still hold onto hope.

Because if judgment is real, then so is redemption.

And if the shaking comes, it is not the end of the story.

It is the beginning of a Kingdom that does not break.